'That you must excuse. He is a mere boor,
a log, a brute, with no address in life.--Positively a fly in the jug.
The first I have seen this year.'
Edward rose, and paced the room. His imperturbable parent sipped his
tea.
'Father,' said the young man, stopping at length before him, 'we must
not trifle in this matter. We must not deceive each other, or ourselves.
Let me pursue the manly open part I wish to take, and do not repel me by
this unkind indifference.'
'Whether I am indifferent or no,' returned the other, 'I leave you, my
dear boy, to judge. A ride of twenty-five or thirty miles, through miry
roads--a Maypole dinner--a tete-a-tete with Haredale, which, vanity
apart, was quite a Valentine and Orson business--a Maypole bed--a
Maypole landlord, and a Maypole retinue of idiots and centaurs;--whether
the voluntary endurance of these things looks like indifference, dear
Ned, or like the excessive anxiety, and devotion, and all that sort of
thing, of a parent, you shall determine for yourself.'
'I wish you to consider, sir,' said Edward, 'in what a cruel situation I
am placed. Loving Miss Haredale as I do'--
'My dear fellow,' interrupted his father with a compassionate smile,
'you do nothing of the kind.
Pages:
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213